Remember the all-too-characteristically atrocious opening scene of The Newsroom in which the heroic newsman proves his genius with a rant from his trite nostalgia file directed against a strawman “sorority girl”? Perhaps John Kasich is using it as a model:
My hand was raised, my body half-way out of my back-row seat, when Gov. John Kasich finally acknowledged me.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have any Taylor Swift concert tickets,” he said, his eyes meeting mine.
The older members of the audience chuckled as my friends’ jaws dropped to the floor. It was astonishingly clear that Gov. Kasich did not come to Richmond for my vote.
What continues to strike me is the hypocrisy of his condescension. He touted his ambitious energy as an 18-year-old man, but as soon as I, an 18-year-old woman, exhibited ambition, I became the target of his joke. The same passion that drove Kasich to speak with President Nixon drove me to ask the candidate a question I care deeply about. In a way, I was taking the governor’s advice: “Always ask.”
What a card! Hey, all those arbitrarily disenfranchised voters probably just want to use the voting booths to listen to hippty-hop music anyway.
[People who think that I’m being unfair to Sorkin can view the scene here. You’ll be sorry. I especially admire Sorkin for the classic tell: his male heroes who derie the superficiality of feminine hobbies and interests never fail to note that they’re sports fans. But, in fairness, there was that Olivia Munn character with 42 PhDs.]